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A Survivor

By: 

Johnan

Robertson

I used to sit at my front door and look at the empty street. The bumble bees were very active. If I walked round to the passageway at the side of our house, the bumble bees used to float in the air, full of pollen. I had to wind my way carefully between them to avoid banging into them.

From my open door, I see

A bumble bee

Full of happiness and pollen

Tumbling round and round

In the gentle breeze

The wind rises,

And the bumble bee falls

And comes to rest

Between the instep of my foot

and the side of my shoe.

The beautiful, buzzing bumble bee

Drops into my shoe.

Only a tiny bit of its bottom

can be seen

And it’s moving.

 

The touch of the bumble bee

Quivers on the sole of my foot.

The tickling goes on and on

Then it stops

 

I hold my breath

Suddenly, the head of the bumble bee

Pops out

Between the instep of my foot

And the side of my shoe.

I breathe out softly

As the bumble bee floats into the air

Full of happiness and pollen

Tumbling round and round

In the gentle breeze

 

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